


close your eyes & swallow the sun

by ohmygodwhy



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Character Study, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, i can't believe i singlehandedly made that a tag, ozai's a horrible father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-01
Updated: 2016-12-01
Packaged: 2018-09-03 05:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8699644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmygodwhy/pseuds/ohmygodwhy
Summary: let it be known: i did not fall from grace, i leapt to freedom.or: zuko has scars.





	

**Author's Note:**

> ???? this is me avoiding my responsibilities like studying for my history test or sleeping
> 
> (alternate title: how much can i lowkey project onto a character in 1000 words)
> 
> also i love toph??? and should really write her more often

 

 

i. he has a thick wiry rope along his left shoulder blade because once, when they were young, azula convinced zuko to climb out onto the curved terrace around the courtyard. he was busy marveling at how different it looked from up high, how they were almost level with the top of the tree. 

“what would you do,” he’d heard azula say vaguely, “if i pushed you off?” 

zuko spun around to tell her not to joke about things like that, and then there was a small hand on his chest and his legs twisted and his feet gave out from under him. he fell backwards and landed hard and rock tore through the silk of his shirt and deep into his back. 

(mother says _you have got to be more careful, zuko,_ eyebrows all furrowed and concerned as she helps him ease his shirt on later.)

 

ii. he has a long slice on his hip from some of his first attempts at mastering the dao blades, tried a fancy trick too early and caught one of the damn things backwards, and it had cut deep and quick along his side, and he’d bled a lot but hadn’t gone to anyone for help because his mother was gone now and he could tend to himself just fine because he was older now, stronger now. 

(zhao says _i didn’t know you were skilled with broadswords, prince zuko_ , and even though the bastard’s probably just figured him out, he can’t help but feel a little proud of himself—thinks _you have no idea,_ even as he says _i’m not; they’re antiques._ )

 

iii. there is a faint fingerprint on the inside of his left wrist, where his father had gripped him with too-warm hands and gotten angry because he was _falling too far behind_ and _wasting your time playing with swords instead of mastering your bending._

he’d twisted his arm back and back and back until there was a sickening snap and a flood of sharp sharp pain and he had said _look what you made me do_ , and _now you can’t practice either, can you?_

(when he’s having tea with him a few days later, uncle asks what happened. zuko tells him that he fell out of the tree in the garden, the one near the pond, that he climbed too high and lost his balance, that was all.

uncle raises an eyebrow at him over his cup like he’s searching, but doesn’t ask anymore questions. uncle never asks questions about these kinds of things anymore, not since he came home. zuko isn’t sure whether to feel grateful about that, grateful that he doesn’t have to explain how bad he messes up all the time, or disappointed—not that he _is_ disappointed, because uncle lets him spend long afternoons in his room with him, and doesn’t complain when he falls asleep on the couch near the window or in the middle of one of his stories, and didn’t even get mad when zuko tried to make the tea one day and ended up burning it all. 

so zuko says _what kid of tea is this?_ to change the subject, and tries not to seem too relived when uncle starts talking again.)

 

iv. he has a sea of red twisting over his cheekbone and forehead and eyelid and dipping down to his ear, spots like raindrops along his collarbone because fire doesn’t just stop, it catches and spreads and mars and burns. 

_(i didn’t know you had a scar,_ toph says after the little boy runs away, both of them resting against the wall outside the theater. 

_well, i do_ , he says and she asks _can i see?_ and holds out her hands, uncharacteristically hesitant, and doesn’t seem like she would mind if he said no, so he takes her small wrists and leads them to his face and closes his eyes and lets her touch, look, feel, see. 

her interested smile fades as she traces the trail the fire left, over his cheekbone forehead eyelid ear and she says, very small, _it’s big, isn’t it?_

_yeah,_ he answers, _it is,_ eye fluttering open when she draws her hands away. he knows she wants to ask more but she doesn’t, and he doesn’t think he could talk about it right now anyways, not when he’s had to watch himself attack his friends and betray his uncle today already. maybe he’ll tell her about it later, maybe he’ll tell all of them, but not right now.)

 

v. there is a series of dots along the back of his thighs like tiny mountains from the impact of aang blowing him into a wall, faint scratches from where the plaster and brick scraped against his lower back. 

(he peels himself out of his armor later and is vaguely irritated that he’ll have to get it cleaned again so soon. if uncle notices him walking weird, he doesn’t say anything, just leaves bandages and ointment nicely folded outside his door sometime during the night.) 

 

vi. there is an explosion on his chest, jagged edges of his sister’s lightening strike (uncle taught him how to redirect it but she caught him off guard, as she always does). it is dark and ugly, looks like someone decide to cut some kind of messy star out of him— _feels_ like someone decided to cut some kind of messy star out of him and then set him on fire—but he is alive. it is the second scar azula has given him, the second (third? fourth? he stopped counting, because a man like ozai scars but isn’t worth the effort it takes to keep count) a member of his family has given him, closest to taking his life, but he is alive. 

aang says _hey, now we match_ in his twelve year old optimism, because he has a twin explosion on his back, his own jagged star (azula loves her lightening—azula cries and thrashes in her bonds and doesn’t love anything anymore). 

toph punches him and says _that’s for almost dying,_ then punches him again and says _it’ll be a sweet story to tell, though_ , and then punches him _again_ and laughs at him when he chokes out a weak _stop punching me i almost died_ and says _glad you’re still alive, sparky._

uncle says _i knew you could do it,_ says _you’ve made it so far_ , says _i’m so proud of you, zuko,_ and zuko bites his lip hard but it doesn’t stop the hot sting in his eyes at all and he smiles and says _i know_ , says _thank you, uncle,_ tries to say something maybe like _i love you_ , but it won’t come out right and that’s okay because uncle seems to get the point either way, wraps his arms around him gently so he doesn’t touch his wrapped chest and says _i know._

zuko’s alive and uncle’s alive and all of them are amazingly, incredibly alive, and zuko has scars in places he shouldn’t but that’s okay because everyone is alive, and that’s worth every single one of them. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> comments keep me alive my dude

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [After Daybreak](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10876527) by [thesometimeswarrior](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesometimeswarrior/pseuds/thesometimeswarrior)




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